


Until the Hastening Day Has Run

by bocje_ce_ustu



Series: Spizzichi e Bocconi (Tumblr Writing, Fills and Flashfics) [5]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Based on a Tumblr Post, Flash Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bocje_ce_ustu/pseuds/bocje_ce_ustu
Summary: In a quiet, vulnerable moment, Charles gets to explore the flowers bloomed along Erik's spine and legs.Inspired byendlessthunder'ssoulmate AUwhere flowers bloom in places where your soulmate is wounded.





	Until the Hastening Day Has Run

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [endlessthunder](http://endlessthunder.tumblr.com)'s [photoset and prompt](http://endlessthunder.tumblr.com/post/165757199690/soulmate-au-where-flowers-bloom-in-places):  
>  _soulmate au // where flowers bloom in places where your soulmate is wounded_  
>  _There is a trace of pale-yellow narcissuses along the Erik’s spine._  
>  _(Pale-yellow narcissuses - respect or hopeless love)_
> 
> Title taken from _To Daffodils_ by R. Herrick.
> 
> This fic is also on Tumblr [here](http://bocje-ce-ustu.tumblr.com/post/166371942692/endlessthunder-soulmate-au-where-flowers).

_It’s beautiful._

Even through their connection Charles’s voice is no more than a whisper, shy for once that even that might be too much and spoil the moment.

The rare vulnerability is something to be cherished in itself: the way Erik breathes quietly with his head resting atop of his arms, his body warm and in a relaxed sprawl on the bed sheets before Charles.

What haste and darkness have allowed to conceal in all their time together, in all the bittersweet truces and tempestuous lovemaking in between, is now finally laid open to Charles’s eyes and touch.

The time for shame is through, regret now only lasting as long as it takes for their hands to touch.

Charles lets his calloused fingers trace the faint swirls along Erik’s lower back, from the upside-down roots closing around a naked circle of skin over his spine, down to the fair petals wrapping his ankles and splaying over the soles of his feet in twin splendour.

“I’d rather not have it,” Erik murmurs simply, without heat. The script is old, the lines of an exchange they learnt by heart long ago and don’t need repeating. His eyes, dark in the dim light, find Charles’s as if by no effort. Two things they will always agree upon, and one is that Erik is sorry. “It reminds me of you,” he says after a while, sounding both warmer and more tentative than before. Charles lets Erik guide his hands back up along his skin, up until they reach Erik’s temples, embedded with light blue clouds of minuscule forget-me-nots. “They all remind me of the ways I’ve wronged you, and how I don’t want that to happen again.”

His eyes are brimming a little at that, but it’s Charles’s tear that rolls down his cheek first, as he opens his arms and beckons.

Erik’s weight shifts on the mattress, his limbs wrapping around Charles, his cheek pressing against Charles’s without a moment’s doubt. They sob, shudder, let out a short wet chuckle as they rub their cheeks dry on each other’s skin.

They part – not so much, never too much – just to find again the amazement of the first night, which so many days and months and years have layered in so many different feelings, but never dulled.

Erik has one hand rubbing at Charles’s scalp, where Charles knows a small golden honeysuckle blossom can be seen. The pigment is as old as that of the red clovers bruising the base of his neck, but a more recent discovery, courtesy of Apocalypse, that still seems to captivate Erik.

More recent still, the magnolia flower slowly blooming across his left collarbone and down over his chest, a mirror of the angry scars on Erik’s left shoulder and pectoral muscle.

Charles tugs Erik’s hand down and keeps it there, where he can feel the petals steadily beating to life.

Charles’s body is a canvas for every battle Erik fought and survived, a reminder of how fragile the peace of moments like this is.

“These also remind me of you,” Charles says “but I’d rather not think of you hurt.”

A quirk of lips answers his frown, and the  _There we go again_  Erik sends his way sounds a little too fond to sting.

Erik takes the hand pinning his on Charles’s chest and kisses the cornflower on the palm, then presses his lips to the magnolia over Charles’s heart.

“You know I always find my way back to you.”

Erik raises his head and meets his eyes again. He looks so damn certain that, for a moment, that alone is enough to assuage Charles’s fears.

 _I know._  “Be careful.” Charles leans in and cups Erik’s face in his hands. Erik’s lips part to welcome his, easy as breathing.

 _I will_ , Erik thinks back, even as he pictures with some interest what Charles would look like with a new stem of sweet peas or a slew of mossy saxifrage curling around his hip. Charles grins into the kiss and pinches Erik in the waist.

Two things they will always agree upon, and the other is that Charles will always be there for him.  
  



End file.
